, 1887-09-11
MINNESOTA TALES.
STORIES Told in an Old Fashioned
HostelrIe.

DepI - looi.-EOr quarter OF a century
no year has gone that | have not passed
a portion of that year in Minnesota.
Subtle as is the charm of our eastern sea-
coast, the rugged hills and lovely wales of
New England, or the stored places of our
peoples and their strivings, there is, at
least to me, a still subtler charm in this
beauteous, bounteous land.
| do not mean in its splendid metropol-
itan experiences and association. For,
while the tremendous young cities of St.
Paul and Minneapolis, now practically
one city of over a half million people, will
show the casual onlooker a greater dis
play of wealth and fashion within twenty
four hours than any other half million
cxtant, there are tor the observer and
traveller beyond this lavish product OF
new and lavish opportunity, cline and
scene and countryside folk as radiant,
tender and quaint as human eye ever
looked upon. Reveling in this winsome
Sank valley, o~utrivaling the famous Mo-
hawk and Cumberland, l came last night
upon this sleepy nook where
DUTCH I'LL DREAM AND GOSSIP,
labor and thrive, as care free of
the hard world without, as though it
we're all another bit of old Bavaria, or
another nest from behind the Hudson's
witching shores. Here in this Mime
sofa Sleepy Hollow is old Dutch John
Kray's ramshackle tavern, famous for its
nightly crowds and merry carousals; for
its groaning tables and tremendous
feather beds; for its buxom, red checked
serving girls with monstrous bodices,
shoes and ooyness; for the loquacity, gar
rulousness, yet awful dignity, of its big
bellied, bald headed host; and for the
yarns and tales that nightly emenate from
the travellers of all sorts who would risk a
twenty mile walk across the country in
midwinter to reach its long. low, rambling
bar room, its great fireplace where a
barbecue might be prepared, and its
simple, yet ever-welcOme homellkeness
and cheer.
After our supper-and what a supper,
in the CHEEKY lamp light Of these crisp,
early autumn days-then our pipes,
cigars and the rough Jokes and chatter of
the miscellaneous crowd, which after a
time thinned out gradually to just a score
or 80 %congenial spirits, who with old
John Kray as the presiding genius, and
the open bar conveniently near, pressed
about the enormous fireplace where the
maple logs were never wanting, thus
early b%ruiting of winters cheer, through
halos Of smoke, we sang songs or told
tales away into the night, interrupted only
by the late conner, but too glad TO Join
the charmed circle.
The Financial Agents Tale.
His card read: Hard Case, --
street, Chicago, financial agent" His
business was collecting lightning rod
notes. He had escaped a few lynchings,
had been accompanied out of outraged
farming communities by large crowds of
excited followers on no end of occasions,
he rather enjoyed the hatred of men, and
we were delighted to find a charming vein
of sentiment underneath the surface of
his calling.
Speaking of hat chap with the bas-
ket OF gew-gaws, who's been playing you
fellows for a Gypsy, he's no Gypsy. But
he reminds me Of a little scrap | came
near getting into up here about twenty
years ago. | a%ccidently met an old school
friend at the Merchants hotel, st. Paul,
one of your no account, wandering chaps,
always poking into odd things and pulling
his friends into trouble after him. He'd
somehow got among the Gipsles;
GOT STUCK ON A GIRL
he called Belinda, or Orlenda, or some
other spuce gum name, down in camp at
Silver Greek, near Watseka, Ill. The
band made it mighty hot for him, gave
him the slip one night, and he'd been
chasing them cussed Gipsies over three
years. The girl was as dead set after him
as he after her, and he'd got nearly muir
dered two or three times for trying to get
her away from her tribe. He had lust
learned that the crowd were camped up
near Glenwood, near Lake Whipple,
named for Bishop Whipple down at Earl
bault, and what he wanted was for me to
go out there with him and help him cap
ture the girl, whether or no.
Il just made up my mind to let my
business go to thunder and do it. We
got out to Benson on the Breckenridge
branch Of the Manitoba road, along in the
middle of the day some time. The young
fellow wouldn't say much,
Z HE WAS PALE n QUIET.
and the fact is, the further | got, the
more | knew he'd get the girl or never
leave Minnesota alive. At Benson we
got three horses, one With Just a blanket
and surcingle, which he led, and started
out, and by 5 or 6 o'clock we left the
old stage road to Glenwood aud Alexandria
and struck toward the lake, finding a fine
camping place for the night.
The GipsIes, who had brought a lot
Of horses into the state, and we're dicker.
ing about, were camped across the lake
a couple of miles below Glenwood, in a
perfect nest OF n spot and we could see
their camp fires plainly across the head Of
the lake, not more than a mile distant,
and the Giplies misunderstanding about
among the wagons and tents. The only
thing hat we accomplished that night
was that my friend prowled about the
camp, got a little
TALK WITH THE GIRL,
and arranged for the escapade the next
night, while | stole a good large canoe
down at Glenwood and got it back to
camp. The next evening about 9 O'Clock
we struck out across the lake and found q
landing place under a big Eastwood tree
that had fallen out into the water. Ii